Hangovers and Hairpins
by McGeekle
Summary: Prompt: Someone tries to get into the wrong apartment when drunk. Tiva AU


Ziva was drunk. She tried to deny it, tried to pass herself off as a sober individual, but she could feel it in her bones. Or, more accurately, she _couldn't_ feel her cheeks. She stumbled across the threshold of her apartment building, stumbling as she caught her heel on the metal lip. She let out a noise that was half groan half whine and made her way to the stairs. She looked up at them with a sad expression, knowing that it would be the struggle of her life to make it up them. She made a mental note she was certain to forget to stop getting into shot contests with men twice her size. She held tight to the railing as she climbed the stairs, the first landing posing a challenge as she tried to negotiate how many steps she had to take to get to the next step. She shed her shoes, taking both heels in one hand and holding the railing with the other.

She fared only slightly better without her four inch heels, her feet felt funny now that they were flat and her balance was thrown. She managed to stumble up two more flights of stairs without encountering any elderly neighbors or judgmental mothers when she reached her floor. She made her way to her apartment door on slightly wobbly legs, dropped her shoes and searched for her keys, which thankfully were still in her pocket where she left them. She fumbled with the doorknob, her fingers clumsy and hot as she tried to get the key in. After a few tries she grew frustrated, shoved the key in her pocket and ripped a bobby pin from her hair. She snapped it in half and managed to pick the lock with far more efficiency than her key had afforded.

She sighed in relief as she finally made her way through the door, kicking her shoes in gracelessly. She slammed the door shut behind, making her wince and shush herself. She shed her coat, tossing it in the general direction of the couch and pulled the remaining pins out of her hair, leaving them on the kitchen counter. She didn't bother undressing, simply fell into bed, snuggling up into her pillow and slipping under the covers. She would deal with all of the mess in the morning, when she would hate herself for every decision she made tonight.

—

Tony was drunk. His head was fuzzy and his fingers were doing this weird tingling thing he wasn't a huge fan of. His buddies were never ones for moderation, nor were they stingy about placing bets on drinking contests. This chick at the bar had taken him for all he was worth, causing him to drown his sorrows for the sheer humiliation of being beat by a girl in front of his buddies. He ran a hand down his face as he looked at the stairs in his apartment building. Stairs were hard. Stairs were the enemy of those who weren't in any shape to be even walking on flat ground. Why he chose willingly to live in a building without an elevator would be the question he contemplated as he dragged himself up all three flights of stairs to his apartment.

When he reached the door, he thanked his lucky stars that he'd had the good sense to take them back from Matt before he dropped him off at the curb. He frowned as he struggled to get the key in the hole, leaning his forehead against the door because being upright was just so much _work_. The door swung in and he groaned as he stumbled in after it. He knocked the door closed as he tried to kick his shoes off, letting it slam closed behind him, making him wince. He'd have words with his neighbor about that in the morning. Mrs. Navarro wouldn't be happy with him. He managed to toe off his shoes and tossed his jacket in the direction of the couch. He unbuttoned his pants as he walked toward the bedroom, pulling them off as he walked and left them in the threshold. He walked the few steps to his bed, groaning in relief as his head hit the soft pillow and he crawled under the covers. He'd be in pain in the morning, but he'd enjoy his way too comfortable bed for the time being.

He could hear his blood pumping in his ears before he even opened his eyes the next morning.

The rays of sun peeking through the window were agony as he opened his eyes even a fraction of the way, and he snapped them shut again. He ran his hand over his face as he tried to force himself to wake up, to hope that the pounding ache in his head and in his bones was some kind of nightmare. It wasn't though, he learned as he tried to open his eyes again. He let out a pained sigh through his cotton-mouth dry throat and realized more than anything he just wanted a shower. He pushed himself off the bed, his stomach flipping uncomfortably as he stood; horizontal was so much better than vertical. Through half-lidded eyes he made his way to the bathroom to try to wash the stench of tequila and bad decisions off him.

When he emerged from the shower twenty minutes later, his post-binge drinking ritual was interrupted by the shrill ring of his cell phone.

"You have got to be kidding me." Tony said as he picked up. "I thought we weren't on call this weekend?"

"Hello to you, too. Apparently Gannet's team already caught a case, they need us to pick up the slack."

"Do they really need us at…" he looked at the alarm clock on his side table, but caught sight of something he wasn't expecting, a head of dark hair splayed on his pillow. "Oh shit."

"Tony what is it?"

"Aaahhhh…" he contemplated telling a lie, but his hangover-addled brain came up with nothing. "There's a woman in my bed and I have no idea how she got there."

"So just a typical Saturday morning for you, then?"

"Shut it, Probie, I really have no idea who this woman is. I don't remember bringing anyone home from the bar with me."

"Well you should figure it out soon, Gibbs wants to leave for the crime scene in 20."

"What am I supposed to do with this woman?" Tony asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

"I'm sure whatever you normally do will be fine, Tony."

"I don't usually do this, probie. I usually remember bringing them home at the very least."

"Good luck with that. See you in 20."

"I'm gonna need longer than that, McGee." He could hear the smile in McGee's voice.

"I'll cover for you if you do my paperwork for a week."

"Done. Text me the address I'll meet you there." He hung up with little fanfare and stood staring at the woman in question in his bed.

He had no idea where she'd come from. She was dressed as far as he could tell, and when he'd woken up so was he. So if she wasn't a one night stand, what the hell was she doing there? He watched the woman as he dressed, deciding that waking her up while he was naked was probably the wrong way to go. He finished dressing as casually as he could pull off on a weekend work day and took to trying to wake the woman up. He placed his arm on her shoulder, shaking her a little less than gently. She didn't stir. He shook a bit more vigorously and said "Hey, wake…"

The woman shot up to sitting, grabbing Tony's forearm from her shoulder and attempting to get him into a half-nelson. He cried out in surprise as she twisted his arm behind his back, catching him off guard.

"Who are you and why are you in my apartment?" She asked harshly, Tony's face pressed into the mattress.

"Tony. I was about to ask you the same thing!" he gritted out.

"Why do you not know why you are in my apartment?" she demanded.

"Probably because we're in MY apartment, not yours," Tony said, his voice muffled slightly by the comforter.

"That is ridiculous, why would I be here if I did not live here?"

"Kind of what I'm trying to figure out. So if you could let me go, that would be great," Tony barked. His patience with this woman had already run out. She released him and stood up from his bed, tugging down her skirt along the way. She looked around the apartment, forehead creased and eyes half lidded, clearly as hungover as he was. Regardless of that, Tony had to force himself to choke down the noise of approval threatening to creep up his throat as he got a good look at the woman for the first time. Her legs were long, tanned and clearly in great shape. Even if he couldn't see her from behind he suspected her ass was out of this world. She had flared hips and a small waist, accentuated by her tight black dress. She was, in a word, gorgeous. He was thanking his lucky stars that they hadn't had a one night stand. If they ever shared a bed again, he wanted to remember it.

"How did I end up here?" She demanded.

"That is an excellent question. Brilliant, if I do say so myself," he mocked, thrusting his hands out to the side in a "hell if I know" motion.

"There is no need to be so hostile."

"Says the woman who just attacked me in my own home," he shot back.

"I did not know it was your home at the time. You could have easily been an intruder."

"You are the intruder here."

"I said that you _could have been_, not that you are."

"We're going around in circles here, I don't have time for this," he said, walking out of his bedroom and into the hall. She was quick to follow.

"If I am not in my apartment, where am I?"

"On Beacon Ave. Apartment 316."

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widened. "Oh."

"Oh, that's all you have to say?" he asked as he turned back to face her.

"This was my mistake…I was clearly confused last night."

"And where are you supposed to be?"

"In apartment 416."

"So what, in a drunken haze you thought this was your apartment, came in and climbed into my bed?"

"That seems to be the case, yes."

"Your key doesn't open my door, so how did you get in?"

"I likely picked your lock."

"You picked my lock? With what?"

"I left my lock picking kit at home, so I most likely used a hair pin. From what I recall it was quite easy. Simple design."

"You have a lock picking kit?"

"You do not?"

"What is it you said you did, again?"

"I did not say."

He stared at her for a moment, the woman who broke into his apartment and was likely a criminal based on what little information he had.

He walked out of the hallway and into the kitchen, where he promptly went to the refrigerator and took out club soda, hot sauce and a lemon. He poured all of them into a glass together, and Ziva couldn't help but cringe.

"What is that?" she asked, disgusted.

"This is an old family tradition, the DiNozzo defibrillator. Cures a hangover like nothing I've ever seen before. Want one?"

"No," she said "Thank you. My family's hangover cure is a much simpler affair."

"And what would that be?"

"Jasmine tea with lime."

"That sounds disgusting."

"Says the man who is planning on drinking lemon juice and hot sauce."

"It works, alright? And I have to get to work."

"What do you do that you must rush out on a Saturday morning?"

"I'm a federal agent."

"Which agency?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Perhaps I want to make sure that you are not lying to me."

"You're the one who walked into the wrong apartment, I don't have to justify myself to you. BUT, since you asked _so _nicely, I work for NCIS."

"Hmm. Not good enough for the FBI?"

"The FBI is our sister agency, and our case closure rate is way higher than theirs," he said in a thank-you-very-much tone.

"Hmph, from the way they talk about you, I believe they would beg to differ," she said off-handedly.

"Okay, Who are you, exactly?"

"Why do you want to know? So you can gossip about the FBI?"

"You know my name, where I work, I think it's only fair I get to learn yours."

"I am Ziva, I work for the Israeli Embassy."

Israeli. That explained the accent. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't think it was incredibly hot, just like the rest of her.

"Ah, So that's how you know so much about inter-agency cooperation."

"I would hardly call it cooperation if both parties make it as difficult as possible for the other."

"Healthy rivalry."

"I am sure." She laughed drily.

She looked up at the man whose bed she'd occupied that morning only to see him smiling back at her. She smiled softly, but realized that there was nothing left to say.

"I should go." She said. "Thank you for your hospitality." She pushed herself away from the counter she was leaning on and started to make her way to the door.

"You're very welcome. I hope my bed was to your liking," he said, raising his glass to her.

"It was, thank you." She picked up her shoes from the floor and stood, turning back to give him one last smile.

"I will see you around, yes?"

"You will." Tony said with a charming smile.

She opened the door

"Ziva,"

She stopped, turned back to him.

"If you happen to find yourself in my bed again…I wouldn't complain."

She chuckled "Perhaps you should ask me to dinner first."

He opened his mouth.

"ah-ah," she stopped him. "Not now," she smiled slyly, "I will see you soon, Agent DiNozzo."

He beamed, but suddenly his face fell, "Wait, I didn't tell you my last name."

She narrowed her eyes at him teasingly, licking her lip. She turned on her heel and shut the door behind her, leaving him astounded in his kitchen to wonder.


End file.
